Ignis Ille Ex Gelida
by sageandinsight
Summary: Wrongly captured and sentenced to death, Garrick soon finds himself thrust into the role of the Dragonborn, an ancient Nordic hero who would save the land during a time of great darkness. Now a major force of power and influence, he struggles to protect his identity and his morality against the forces that would seek to control him and his homeland.
1. Chapter 1

Ignis Ille Ex Gelida

One of Frozen Fire

Chapter One

The gentle rocking and jostling that my body began to feel was quite relaxing, though I couldn't figure out its source. I was unable to recall when I had really become aware at all, let alone when I first noticed the sensation of traveling. The lulling effect of the vibration gave the blackness that occupied my vision strength, I couldn't will my eyes to open. I had lain still for only a short while before I began to hear voices and the sound of clinking metal, though it all seemed distant and muffled. I tried to shift around, but my body was anything but responsive; all my attempts to move were met with a total lack of sensation.

Slowly, I felt my consciousness begin to slip away from my grasp as elusively as it had come. I started to become worried; I felt as though I needed to wake up, but I was being swallowed whole by the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

As I sank deeper, I saw two, massive red orbs light up the darkness, a gaze so timeless that it peered into my soul. Panic slowly took the place of worry. The sounds from before faded away, yielding to a low rumble, like the growl of a saber cat but from something infinitely more powerful.

"Awake. There is much left to do," a deep voice cut through my dulled senses, the low tones reverberating within my mind. No light reached my eyes, but the pinprick of hope that had blossomed in my chest felt as dazzlingly bright as Magnus himself. My soul began to stir in response. A heat like fire spread out into my body filling my chest to the brim, then overflowing out into my extremities. The hairs on my arms and legs rose, chills running up and down my spine.

The hot sensation continued to intensify, filling my head with a whirlwind of emotions. My body felt like it was rejuvenating, like the strain and struggle of a lifetime was being taken off my shoulders. The small pinprick of hope that I had held onto so dearly had grown into a gushing fountain. The emotions came faster and faster, each beginning to blur into the next, inseparable from the last. And just before I felt as if I was going to burst in an awesome nova of golden light, I awoke.

My eyelids forced themselves open, and despite the overcast skies, I found myself squinting into the ambient daylight. My head was buzzing with the memories of what I had just experienced, but they were quickly fading as if it were only a dream and nothing more. After my vision focused and adjusted to the light, I was able to take in my situation.

My body was propped uncomfortably into the corner of a wooden cart, and I wasn't alone. Joining me in the cart were three other men. Across from me sat a blonde Nord; his features were rugged, exhaustion plastered across his demeanor as he stared at the floor of the cart. On the left side of his face, a trail of dried blood led my gaze to just up above his temple. The majority of is armor was constructed of leather and fur, save for an iron cuirass covered by some blue cloth with an emblem of a bear on it. In the opposite corner of the cart from me was a weather-tanned Nord with brown hair. Crusted dirt caked the pronounced lines of his face, all he wore was burlap clothing and wraps on his feet. To my right was a Nord in elegant blue robes. All four of us in the cart were bound at the wrists, yet only the Nord to my right was gagged. He sat with his elbows on his knees while bowing his head as if lost deep in thought.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake," the blonde Nord said, breaking me from my thoughts. "You were trying to cross the border right"? Still slightly dazed from my return to reality, I simply nodded. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there," he spat at the man in rags across from me.

"Damn you Stormcloaks," the thief shot back. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. If they weren't looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell," his face contorting in anger and frustration. He seemed to calm down somewhat as he turned to face me. "You there. You and me—we shouldn't be here, it's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants," his anger returning as he gestured to the man on his left.

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the blonde Nord said.

"Shut up back there"! The bark of the Imperial Soldier silenced us in an instant.

Unsure of what to do, I followed the gaze of the man across from me, who looked out past the cart driver. I was greeted by rolling plains that stretched out for miles upon miles, running into the jagged hills that ran across Hjaalmarch and The Pale. The plains were intermittently punctuated by massive, rocky outcroppings that jutted from the earth. Occasionally, a village or stone fort poked their head above the crests of the gentle hills of Whiterun Hold, giving the otherwise barren landscape a warmth and life. In the distance, the Druadach mountains teased my eyes at the edge of my range of vision, the nearly vertical crags resembling fangs as they protruded from the haze.

It was a view that never got old, one that I had the pleasure of seeing on the occasion that Bolund and I finished the day's work early. A warmth that was similar, yet subtler, to the one that awoke me from my slumber returned for a brief moment, vanishing as soon as it had come. After a pregnant pause, the horse thief mustered up the courage to break the uncomfortable silence.

"What's wrong with him," he inquired, gesturing towards the gagged man.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King," the soldier erupted in offense. At the mention of the gagged man's name, the thief's eyes widened in horror, mine following suit.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm," he exclaimed, "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you… Oh, gods, where are they taking us"?

If the Stormcloak felt any fear from his imminent end, he didn't show it. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." He turned his gaze from the thief to Ulfric, and then to the floor of the cart. My stomach sank even further, the full weight of my situation finally sinking in. Soon, my head would roll along with the rest of the insurgents that occupied the two-cart caravan.

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening," the thief rambled, anxiety beginning to give way to full-blown panic, though neither the blonde Nord, Ulfric, or I paid him much attention, our thoughts turning towards the brief future that now placed itself at our feet.

After a moment the soldier looked up, "Hey, what village are you from, horse thief"?

"Why do you care"?

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

After a brief pause, taken aback by the respect the rebel soldier was now showing, the thief replied, "Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead." The moment was broken by the sound of gates being hefted open, heralding our entrance.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting," shouted a soldier within the fortress.

"Good. Let's get this over with," an olive-skinned man replied with a weary sigh, turning back to conclude his conversation with two tall elves in dark robes.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor," the Stormcloak growled. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him." His face turned red in hate and disdain. "Damn elves," he fumed. "I bet they had something to do with this." Jarl Ulfric grunted through his gag in agreement, eyes narrowed.

The thief's panic set in further as the carts sauntered through the city. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me," he begged frantically.

"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in," the Nord recounted. "Funny," he snorted, "when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe…" I had been in Helgen a few times and had to agree with the soldier. The town had always seemed to look over the surrounding valley, including the hold capital of Falkreath. The high parapets of the three towers could see for miles, the stone walls of the city and keep seemingly impenetrable. Ever since the start of the civil war a few months ago, the Imperial Legion had garrisoned a large battalion of troops here. A civil war started by the man who sat on my right.

The ride came to a stop in front of the north face of the central tower, the cart that had been in front of ours stopping to our right.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels," the thieving Nord said.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," the rebel soldier jabbed back.

A Breton in Captain's armor joined by a large Nord Legionnaire beckoned the prisoners out of the carts. "Step toward the block when we call your name. One at a time"! The Captain put her subordinate in charge, then went to the other cart to oversee the same process.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake," the thief pleaded with the two Stormcloaks.

The Nord Legionnaire began to read off names. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," he said.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the blonde Nord called out proudly, earning a nod as the Jarl walked towards the growing group of prisoners, a meager crowd of townsfolk beginning to assemble nearby.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the Imperial called, the blonde Nord finally joining his commander.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

The thief stepped toward the Imperial and his captain who had since rejoined her counterpart in reading off the list.

"No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this," he said, drawing the final few stragglers to the crowd. In a single burst of bravado, Lokir began to sprint into the townspeople, pushing and shouldering as many people out of his way as possible. "You're not going to kill me," he exclaimed.

"Halt," the captain yelled, waiting a short moment before continuing, "Archers!"

Three archers poked their heads over the top of the north tower's parapet at the authoritative yell. The captain was now pointing at the fleeing form of Lokir, who had now nearly finished carving through the sea of civilians. Knocking their arrows, drawing their strings, the three marksmen held their shot until the thief ran into the clear. _Twang, twang, twang!_ Almost as fast as it had started, the corpse of Lokir crumpled to the ground.

"Anyone else feel like running," she asked, glancing at the few remaining prisoners. Satisfied with the answer she received, the captain turned back to the Nord who held the list and motioned for him to finish his task. He looked over the list a number of times, confusion beginning to etch itself across his face.

"Wait, you there. Step forward," he said with a scratch of his head. "Who are you?"

"Garrick of Falkreath," I said, my voice catching a bit.

"Ah, you're Boland's assistant, aren't you? Sad to see you end up with this lot," he said while writing on his tablet. Before I could clarify, he had already turned towards his superior. "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the damn list. He goes to the block like the rest of them," she answered impatiently.

"I'm sorry, your remains will be returned to your family in Falkreath. Follow the Captain, prisoner." A flash of genuine sorrow and regret tore across his face, if only for a brief moment. I hesitated for a moment at the mention of my remains. _No matter_ , I decided, _I'll be dead soon, anyway_. I joined the line next to Ralof, Ulfric stood on his right.

General Tullius walked over and stood in front of him, looking him up and down before beginning to speak. "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne," his voice beginning to rise. Ulfric stayed silent. "You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

At the conclusion of this monologue, a sound like no other sang down the gray crags that surrounded Helgen, the ferocity that permeated the air sending chills down my spine in a visceral reflex.

"What was that," the Nord with the list asked nervously.

"It's nothing. Carry on," Tullius said as he walked away from Ulfric.

"Yes, General Tullius," the Captain answered quickly. Walking towards where the executioner stood with a priestess, she motioned to begin the beheading ritual. "Give them their last rites."

The priestess began, "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Ni— er, Eight Divines upon you…" The silence that permeated the prisoners and the surrounding crowd as she rattled off her prayer was impressive but short-lived.

A Stormcloak soldier from the other cart sighed loudly and marched forward. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with," kneeling down and occupying the crude indent put in the stone block.

"As you wish," the priestess said, taken aback by the eagerness for death.

The soldier's impatience seemed to grow at the pause brought on by his demand. "Come on, I haven't got all morning," he barked at the executioner who stood above him. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" His rhetoric sparked an outburst from the onlookers. Some threw insults towards the Imperial Legionnaires, others hurled death threats to the Stormcloak prisoners. The verbal onslaught quickly died down as the executioner raised the axe above his head, gravity helping to bring his giant axe down on the neck of the soldier.

Ralof bowed his head. "As fearless in death as he was in life," he said, almost too quietly for me to hear. The executioner rolled the deceased soldier's head into the basket that sat beneath the block with his foot, looking to the Imperial Captain to select another prisoner. My stomach sank as her gaze fell on me after scanning the rest of the prisoners.

"Next, the Breton," she barked. _Just my luck_ , I thought. Before I could move, another roar echoed out from within the mountains to the South, much louder… much closer. The crowd began to mutter amongst themselves, speculating what could make such a sound.

"There it is again. Did you hear that," the Legionnaire asked.

"I said, next prisoner," the Captain repeated, impatience beginning to enter into her voice.

Noticing my hesitation, the Nord attempted to coax me into moving, "To the block prisoner. Nice and easy."

I walked forward, starting to kneel before being forced down by the sole of the Captain's boot. The headsman lifted his massive ax into his hands, moving to heft it up above his head. However, the blade never went above his burly shoulders.

"What in Oblivion is that," Tullius exclaimed in utter disbelief.

The headsman now was looking around, allowing me to crane my head up to glance at the townspeople, whose heads were turned to the sky.

"Sentries! What do you see," the Captain called out, concern lacing her voice.

"It's in the clouds," a soldier said from the north tower.

"Dragon," came a shout from a nearby Legionnaire. As if by magic, the word Dragon elicited utter pandemonium from soldier, prisoner, and townsperson alike. Screams and cries rose up from every direction, the previously confused gathering now a whirlwind of desperation and panic. Some ran into nearby buildings for optimistic protection, others ran out of buildings (for what reason, Divines only know). The massive, black dragon landed heavily on the central parapet of Helgen above me, sending tremors through the earth, shaking my bones to the core.

After roaring and spraying a horrendous gout of fire towards whatever it could see in the nearby vicinity, it turned its cold, red eyes onto my helpless form next to the chopping block. Though I was grateful for the recent death of my would-have-been murderer, I wanted to be anywhere else in Mundus than under the deadly gaze of a killing machine. It felt as if time stopped, all the noise of the present moment dying away. I could perceive nothing else but this entity, my eyes locked in the stare of the dragon's. The dragon roared again following what could have been nothing less than a thousand years and took back to the skies to terrorize the remainder of the town. I could only thank the Divines that I didn't become dragon food.

Over the din of terror, voices began to gain purchase, the first being that of General Tullius, "Don't just stand there, kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!" After a small moment, Tullius gained control of his men back from the hypnotic presence of the flying legend. The sound of clanking armor and weapons being unsheathed began to fill the air.

"Hey, Breton! Get up," Ralof bellowed over the din of terror. "Come on, the gods won't give us another chance! This way," he said, hurrying towards the safety of the northern tower. Awkwardly pushing myself up with my bound hands, I stumbled through the fire and debris and managed to get inside.

I saw the Nord standing amongst his compatriots who all looked towards a now ungagged Ulfric. "Jarl Ulfric," Ralof began, "What is that thing? Could the legends be true"?

"Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move, now," Ulfric responded, his baritone voice commanding the ears of the band of survivors.

Ralof nodded, beginning to rally the others. "Up through the tower. Let's go," he exclaimed. "This way, friend. Move," directing my attention to the stairs behind me.

One of the other Stormcloak soldiers had already reached the second floor of the tower. "We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way," he commanded. Suddenly, he was thrown across the room by the head of the dragon, a hole punched through the wall of the tower.

"Yol… toor shul," the dragon growled in a guttural, scraping voice. Flames erupted from its gaping maw at the completion of the phrase. Blistering heat filled the room. Ralof and I flinched backward to shield ourselves from a fiery doom. Despite being thrown back down the stairs by the dragon's entrance, it wasn't far enough to mitigate the heat. The dragon flew off with a roar, and I cursed as I inspected my nearly charred forearms and feet. The tide of Stormcloaks surging up the stairs left me little time to worry, and I did my best to regain my composure.

After making sure the coast was clear, Ralof told me his escape plan. "See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going." The straw thatching had been burned from the building leaving a big enough hole to jump through. Even though I was only on the second level of the tower, it was still going to be a long fall.

Ralof gave me a nudge, "Go! We'll follow you when we can"! I returned a small nod. Taking a step back, I ran forward to take my enormous leap from the tower. In hindsight, it would have been incredibly helpful to have my hands cut apart before jumping; my bound hands did little to keep me upright during my flight, nor did they help to cushion the hard impact my body made on the solid wood floor.

But stopping was not an option while a winged reptile of death was around. Thankfully I had begun to get the hang of using my bound extremities and was able to haul myself to my feet. I ran to the other side of the inn's upper floor to where a gaping hole gave me immediate access to the ground floor. I hit the ground running, darting behind a house that was up in flames where some other survivors, including the Nord who had the list earlier, weathered the fiery storm of the beast.

The dragon had now circled back over the down, beginning a dive towards two figures in the middle of the main road. Oblivious of his now descending doom, a young boy was tugging hopelessly at the arm of a collapsed man.

"Haming, you need to get over here now," the Nord shouted.

Looking from the Nord to the man in the street, Haming turned and ran to the Nord, and not a moment too soon.

"Thataboy! You're doing great" he said, trying to soothe and encourage the shaken child. Turning back to the man in the street, the Nord took a step to lend aid before the dragon landed with a heavy thud. He cried out, "Torolf! Gods… everyone get back!" he shouted, just managing to dive behind the house and escape the gout of fire that engulfed the cobbles.

After the dragon had flown to the other side of Helgen to wreak havoc on the other groups of survivors, the Nord turned to survey his band of survivors. His eyes widened slightly once he became aware of my presence. "Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way," he ordered. Looking to a man on my right, he continued, "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

Gunnar nodded in response. "Gods guide you, Hadvar." It seemed I was never to learn the names of anyone in this land unless someone else decided I should know it. Hadvar jerked his head in the direction of an alleyway between a wall within the city and a large building that looked like it might have been a tavern or another inn before it had been razed by the dragon.

"Stay close to the wall," he cried as the dragon circled back and began to land right where the Legionnaire and I were running towards. I ran as fast as I could muster across the road, nearly throwing myself into the alleyway and slamming my back against the wall. _Crunch!_ The dragon now perched itself on the wall directly above me, a razor-sharp talon embedding itself into the stone no more than a single foot from my head.

Hadvar and I remained absolutely still, hoping, praying that the awesome beast wouldn't notice us. To my great relief, it seemed more concerned with barbecuing the fleeing Helgenites than checking to make sure it didn't step in a pile of human. Hadvar began to move once the dragon had taken off again, calling hushedly, "Quickly, follow me"!

After ducking through a small house with a very inconvenient zig zag, Hadvar and I burst out into a large open area. Some soldiers and a few of the civilians were hopelessly firing whatever ammunition they could muster up at the invincible god that dove amongst the battlements.

Tullius caught sight of Hadvar almost immediately, "Hadvar! Into the keep, soldier, we're leaving"!

"It's you and me, prisoner," he said over his shoulder as we began to sprint towards the massive keep on the northeast side of the town, "stay close"!

Once we got within a hundred paces of the main doors, Ralof came into view as he ran through the gate nearby the execution site.

"Ralof! You damned traitor, out of my way," Hadvar snarled.

"We're escaping, Hadvar," Ralof replied, "You're not stopping us this time."

Hadvar snorted, "Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde."

Ralof narrowed his eyes at Hadvar as he continued for the door. He looked to me, "You, come on! Into the keep"!

Hadvar looked back as he flung the main door open, "With me, prisoner! Let's go"! I looked at Ralof for a moment before shaking my head.

"Come on! We need to get inside," Hadvar bellowed. I turned away from Ralof and hurried past Hadvar, who pulled the door closed behind me with a resounding slam that echoed into total silence.

 **A/N**

Hey all! I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter of Ignis! This is my first real crack at writing a fanfic, so make sure to be extra brutal with your critique ( ;D ) Everything in my writing needs improvement, so every opinion matters (and any helpful resources as well).

I'm planning to release a new chapter at least once a month, but that's subject to change based on this semester's workload.

I don't intend to ever let my notes get long, and I don't have much more to say. Thanks for your time and happy reading!

~Sage

Legal/Copyright

The Elder Scrolls Universe, The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, and it's constituent assets belong entirely to Bethesda Softworks, Bethesda Game Studios, and ZeniMax Media Inc. This work is a transformative use of the content owned by ZeniMax Media and it's holdings and is distributed in a non-profit manner.

Garrick of Falkreath and any additions made within _Ignis Ille Ex Gelida_ that are not owned by Bethesda Game Studios are the intellectual property of SageAndInsight.


	2. Chapter 2

Ignis Ille Ex Gelida

One of Frozen Fire

Chapter Two

Hadvar slammed the door bar into place. For a single moment, total silence occupied the barracks we found ourselves in. A number of shoddy beds occupied one wall, while a fireplace, eating area, and some weaponry resided on the other side. Once we felt the threat of the dragon outside had diminished somewhat, we sighed in relief.

Hadvar spoke first, "Looks like we're the only ones who made it. Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times"? He rubbed his forehead in disbelief. "We should keep going. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off."

He produced a small dagger and cut through the tough rope. I tested my stiff wrists as soon as my hands were free.

"There you go. Take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I'm going to see if I can find something for these burns," Hadvar said before rooting through a chest by the entrance. I walked over to the makeshift armory and grabbed an iron sword from a weapon rack. Nearby was a chest, and in it, I found a set of Imperial armor alongside a matching pair of bracers and boots.

Hadvar turned his head at the sound of the armor leaving the chest, "You'd better start to get that armor on. I can help you in a minute with the chest plate. Go ahead and give the sword a few swings, too." I took his advice, slipping on the bracers before removing the sword from the rack.

"I can't say I've got much experience with pointy sticks," I said, acquainting myself with the balance of the weapon while tentatively swinging it.

"No worries, prisoner. I managed to find some salve. Once we treat these burns, we'll get you all strapped up, and I'll show you a thing or two" he said. We smeared the thick, pungent paste over the scorch marks that covered both our bodies. The coolness of the paste was very pleasant in contrast to the process of putting on armor. The number of straps Hadvar had to tighten on the breastplate was impressive. We slowly made progress in our endeavor, and once my armor fit snugly, Hadvar put me through a few swordsmanship exercises. While I was still a bit unsure of my footwork, my mentor seemed pleased with how quickly I'd grasped the relatively loose grip he'd taught me to hold the sword with.

After concluding his swordplay crash course, he opened the gate at the back end of the room, "Let's get moving. That thing is still out there. Come on, this way," he said as he began a brisk walk into the keep.

We rounded a few corners before turning into a hallway that led to the rotunda sporting the other entrance to the keep. Hadvar motioned for me to be quiet, the silence allowing the sounds of voices to drift down the stone tunnel as we crept closer.

"We need to get moving! That dragon is tearing up the whole keep."

"Just give me a minute… I'm out of breath."

"Hear that? Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them," Hadvar whispered over his shoulder. He entered the room with his hands up in an attempt to prevent any kind of escalation, "Hold on now, we only want to—"

The Stormcloaks' heads spun to look in our direction, the woman drawing her warhammer almost immediately.

"If you want to die, so be it," Hadvar growled, rushing towards the woman. I raced towards her counterpart and swung, my attack realized with a resounding clang. The Stormcloak moved to retaliate, snarling as his hand-axe swung towards my own left flank. Raising my arm, I managed to absorb most of the blow with my pauldron and arm guard, but it wasn't enough; my arm flared with pain.

I gritted my teeth and stepped forward. I threw my throbbing elbow towards my opponent's head. It connected with a robust thud. My opponent staggered back, giving me a window to stab at his midsection, only meeting chainmail. My vision flashed white as his fist struck me in the nose. Now it was my turn to err defensive. He sent three blows with his axe. I barely deflected two of them with the flat of my sword.

The third strike caught me unprepared when my heel suddenly struck a piece of fallen debris. I went sprawling onto my back, the hard impact sending my sword from my hand. The Stormcloak pounced on the opening. He lunged forward and brought his axe down toward my head. I rolled to my right, the deafening sound of the impact ringing in my ears. I scrambled to retrieve my sword, turning to see the soldier sending another arcing blow toward my head. I barely regained my footing and dodged to the left to avoid it.

I saw a brief opening in his armor near his neck while he was bent over from his attack. Time slowed down, and without hesitation, my arm raised itself in the air before lodging my blade into my opponent's collarbone. The Stormcloak crumpled to the ground in a bloody, gurgling heap. I stared blankly for a moment before the realization of what had happened set in. I began to recoil from my grizzly handiwork while watching his body writhe on the ground. My mind went into shock, I felt my gut begin to lurch. I turned away in hopes of holding down the contents of my stomach.

"First time's never easy," Hadvar said, returning from his victory. He clapped his hand on my shoulder and lead me away. "We should keep moving, might get your mind off it for a while." On the other side of the room was an unlocked door that led to a spiraling staircase down into the keep. We turned into a long hallway when I heard a massive rumbling, nearly shaking me off my feet. A loud crack rang throughout the hallway.

"Look out," Hadvar exclaimed. My eyes darted to the ceiling as a massive portion of the stonework came crashing down about ten paces in front of me. The sound was deafening. I staggered back as debris flew past me, the jagged shrapnel meeting my raised arms.

"Damn, that dragon doesn't give up easy," he remarked once the dust had settled.

"Quite some handiwork," I said while eyeing the impressive boulder fall before I spotted a door to my left, our only way forward.

"An old storeroom. See if you can find some potions. Might come in handy," Hadvar said as we entered the room. A couple of Stormcloaks already had the same idea. Their heads spun towards us in surprise, one yelping when he hit his head when he yanked his head out of a barrel.

Hadvar snarled as he ran forward, and I followed close on his heels. The clash of blades rang down the halls, blow traded for blow. Thankfully, it was a quick scrap. Having the element of surprise on our side was a nice touch. I fared much better this time thanks to my earlier practice round. On the other hand, my stomach hadn't gained any tolerance for the gore of battle and I couldn't avoid spilling my guts this time. Losing my lunch helped to ease my queasiness and distaste for gutting other humans a bit.

Once we had checked the bodies for anything useful, Hadvar made his way to the other end of the room to survey the hallway on the other side of the cave-in. I occupied myself with checking inside the barrels and looting the shelves for the meager few bottles I could find that weren't already empty.

"Here." I handed Hadvar a few of the colored potions I had found; I kept just as many for myself.

"Done then? This way," he said. We proceeded down another barren hallway, on edge for any assailants who may have made better time through the keep behind us. As we neared a bend in the hallway, the sounds of another battle met our ears. I hesitated for a moment, not wishing to fight if I didn't have to. But Hadvar pressed forward, and I followed.

"A torture room. Gods, I wished we didn't need these," he muttered while charging down the steps. A couple of Stormcloaks had run into the Imperials that manned Helgen Keeps' room of revelation. Bolts of lightning streaked across the room, crackling over the grunts and yells of the fight. The smell of decay and burnt skin was barely overpowered by the adrenaline that flooded my body. The incident was quick; the Stormcloaks posed no threat to the numbers advantage Hadvar and I brought.

I looked around the room while I tried to distract myself from the gruesome scene on the floor, not to much avail. The torturer's room was just that: a couple of skeletons hung from shackles on the far wall, a few cages, one with a deceased inhabitant, lined another, with a protective partition occupying the wall next to the stairs, presumably for the hooded inquisitor and his understudy to hide behind while they subjected their toys to lengthy, painful procedures.

"You fellows happened along just in time. These boys seemed quite upset at how I'd been entertaining their comrades." The Torturer's slimy voice oozed out from underneath a heavy leather hood; my skin crawled as he spoke. If Hadvar was bothered by his sleazy demeanor, it didn't show.

"Don't you know what's going on? A dragon is attacking Helgen," he said. Both the Torturer and his assistant paused for a moment as the words sunk in. Disbelief crossed the assistant's face, before being replaced by worry. The Torturer let out a huff.

"A dragon? Please. Don't make up nonsense… although come to think of it, I did hear some odd noises coming from over there," he said, trailing off as he faced the stairs leading back into the keep.

"Not like a dragon smashed in the hallway or anything," I mumbled. Hadvar's impatience began to show.

"Come with us. We need to get out of here." The Torturer walked towards Hadvar.

"You have no authority over me, boy."

"Didn't you hear me? I said the keep is under attack." Hadvar's insistence was met with the Torturer's back.

"Forget the old man. I'll come with you," said the assistant, hurrying towards the hallway on the far side of the torture room.

"Wait a second," Hadvar called out. "It looks like there's something in this cage."

"Don't bother with that," the Torturer chuckled. "Lost the key ages ago. Poor fellow screamed for weeks." Hadvar paid no mind to the twisted man's comment.

"See if you can get it open." He handed me a few lockpicks. "We'll need everything we can get."

"I'll see what I can manage." I knelt in front of the lock. Though my lockpicking experience was limited, these were fairly easy by all standards. It took a minute to lift the pins, and with an easy twist of the wrist, the door swung open.

"Sure, take all my things. Please," the Torturer sighed. There wasn't much inside the cell. I grabbed a few gold septims, a spell tome, and a magicka potion, after which we took our leave.

"There's no way out that way, you know…" the hooded man remarked smugly. It did little to sway our group of escapees from continuing on anyways. What I thought was simply a torture room was really more like a torture floor. There were a number of prison cells, cages, and coercive instruments past the large chamber that the main business was run out of.

Fortunately for us, the back wall of the torture department had been torn through, leaving a few precariously hanging stones around the makeshift doorway. A tunnel lay behind the wall with a few braziers lighting the way.

"Let's see where this goes," Hadvar said as we descended the stone steps. The tunnel twisted and turned for a few hundred yards before opening up into an underground spillway. A set of bridges connected four large cobblestone dais that framed different channels of water that drained from the keep above. The channels converged in the middle of the room to empty into the main grate that led further out of Helgen.

Unfortunately for us, a number of Stormcloaks had found it first. Seeing as our earlier attempts at diplomacy had been disregarded, we charged headlong into the room in an attempt to catch the warriors off guard. Hadvar was able to land a fatal blow on the trailing member of the group as the assistant I ran across the bridge to engage the members ahead.

The soldier in front of me barely had time to react to my form hurtling towards her, arm raised in attack. Her shield had raised just far enough to stop my sword from severing her arm completely off, but the damage was still severe. I struck the side of her head with the pommel of my sword and she collapsed to the floor.

 _Thwap!_ I was stunned for a moment, my right ear ringing from the loud clang of my pauldron. I looked down at the clattering sound that followed to see an arrow rolling away from me.

"Aghh," the assistant gurgled as he fell to the ground in front of me, an arrow lodged in his throat. His sparring partner had met a similar fate, though the arrow was replaced with my fallen comrade's dagger.

"Archers," shouted Hadvar. I snapped out of my dazed state, head swiveling around before I tried to dive out of the way of another arrow sent from across the room. _Sssssfp!_

"Damn," I growled as I collided with the ground. My arm was on fire, and I scrambled my way to a spot behind one of the large pillars that dotted the room. The arrow had missed my gut but found a home in the crook of my elbow. Blood was spattered across the wall behind where I was standing, a few chunks of sinew and bone dangled from the exit wound. My body began to shake, my legs writhing about. I barely noticed Hadvar run past me while I clutched my arm. I tried to muster up the will to breathe through my clenched jaw but only managed to hiss and gasp at even the best of moments.

"Hold still, prisoner," I heard after an eternity, "this will hurt more if you struggle. Open." I felt a tap on my jaw, and the sour taste of tanned leather filled my mouth as soon as it was wide enough to fit into. I heard Hadvar break the shaft of the arrow between my elbow and the fletching and with a small apology, jerked the arrow out of my arm by the head.

I howled through the leather strap, the stinging of Hadvar pouring one of our healing potions into the gash felt more like he was rubbing salt into it. I felt the tendons and muscles in my arm come to life and begin to knit themselves back together, my bones following suit. Every step of the process was painful, each one worse than the last. I slammed my fist into the floor, denting the metal bracer and chipping the cobbles below. All the while, Hadvar kept an iron grip on my arm, slowly flexing it back and forth as the potion worked to restore my arm to health. After a few minutes, the twitching and squirming in my arm began to recede along with the pain. I could breathe shallow, unsteady breaths, exhaustion creeping into my body.

"Gods be damned, Hadvar, no one told me a healing potion would hurt more than getting shot in the first place," I said once I regained control of my body. I flexed my arm a few times, testing out my new and improved joint.

"I'm sorry friend, but I fear we must keep moving. I don't want someone to ambush us like we did them," he said. "If it makes you feel any better, you handled your first time much better than most." He clasped my forearm and pulled me up. I nodded, and we navigated past the bodies that were now strewn about the spillway. I kept what little bile I had left where it belonged thanks to a small voice in the back of my head, one that knew it was kill or be killed. I could worry about my discomfort later.

Just ahead of me, Hadvar pulled a lever to let down a bridge that revealed a continuation of the exit the Torturer insisted didn't exist. I had just crossed the bridge when I heard an enormous crack, followed by dust and shrapnel spraying past me. The earth shuddered underneath my feet and I had to hold my arms out to regain my balance.

"Are you alright," Hadvar asked. I nodded. He walked up to the colossal boulder that had fallen into the pathway behind me.

"No going back that way," he said patting the rock, "I should say we're lucky that didn't come down on top of us. We'd better push on. I'm sure the others will find another way out." With that, I grabbed a torch and we continued into what had now become a cave system with an underground stream burbling away around bits of rockfall. We followed along its bank for a few hundred yards, passing tall pillars formed from the groundwater that dripped from the ceiling. Luminescent mushrooms growing from them giving the cave an eerie calmness that was welcome over the constant noise of battle.

Our journey continued in silence while we followed the winding pathway through the rocky subterranean tunnel. Finding ways around the occasional dead end was fairly easy as there usually was a passage on one side or the other. After a while, Hadvar slowed down as he ran his hand along the wall. Thin, wispy strings floated around his hand when he withdrew it, his eyes squinted as he examined it.

"Frostbite spiders by the look of it. See how it's got a green color to it," he said, holding his hand closer to the torch. "Be prepared, there could be too many to handle right now."

We descended down a sloped passage, the webbing becoming more and more visible. The farther along we proceeded, the more I began to notice a sulfurous odor. My eyes were slowly drawn to the torch Hadvar carried. The webbing that coated the walls shrunk away from the tongues of the flame, shriveling in the face of its heat. My mind began to churn in the hopes that fighting the spiders wouldn't be our only option. After we passed a couple more egg sacs, an idea hit me.

"Hadvar, what happens when you try to torch one of those eggs sacs up ahead," I asked. He slowed down, looked at the torch, then to the group of them.

"Let's stand a bit farther back," he replied, and I backpedaled a few paces before Hadvar turned back around. He aimed for a moment before tossing the torch directly onto the small cluster of eggs. We waited with bated breath, watching the torch crackle away on top of the bulbous mounds.

"Well, that wasn't mu—" Hadvar's comment was cut off by an abrupt whoosh of air as the sacs ignited. A small fireball lit up the passageway for a moment, the heat of the small blast caused me to draw my arms up in front of my face. When I opened my eyes a few seconds later, smoldering remains of the sac floated in the air drifting ever so slowly to the ground. After we were sure that nothing else was at risk of catching fire, I retrieved the torch.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought there was a dragon was down here."

"Sure as hell felt like one."

"Let's keep going. Clearing out this spider's den will be easier than I expected."

"Next time, you're throwing the torch, friend." I snickered at his response. Soon enough the passageway abruptly ended and gave way to a murky void in front of us. Wordlessly, I made my way forward to try to get eyes on the nearest egg sac I could while Hadvar made his way back into the passage to safety. I strained to listen over the sounds of my armor shifting as I moved, yet nothing reached my ears. Before long, I had entered the spider's den. My eyes caught a cluster of eggs to my left. I moved to seize the opportunity. I drew my arm back, brow furrowed.

Just as I was about to release the flaming projectile, I heard the sound of chitin mashing together followed by a _splat!_ A sulfurous odor overwhelmed my senses, a cold, wet slime dripped from my face. With my concentration broken, I yelped as I sent the torch wildly hurtling through the air.

"Garrick," Hadvar's voice bellowed from the hallway.

I could hear the torch ignite the surrounding eggs sacs with a whoosh. Stale air rushed past my face to feed the explosion before it screamed back past me in a scalding gale of force. The shockwave threw me into the passage, which I had barely managed to crawl in front of. I shouted as my burns ignited in pain from the heat of the blast and Hadvar's hands as they pulled me back from the spider's den.

I writhed on the ground in pain, disoriented from the aftermath. Hadvar tried his best to force a healing potion down my throat, but my squirming made such a task quite challenging. He managed to get about half of the potion down my throat before he ventured into the spider's den to survey the aftermath. Eventually, the pain subsided to a level that allowed me to lay still and finish what was left of the potion. I looked at the floating embers of spider web that flickered in the dim light of the tunnel; it would have been a breathtaking scene had I not almost been incinerated.

"Haven't you almost met death enough today," Hadvar said with a weak chuckle, sauntering his way back.

"Very funny," I retorted. "Are they gone?"

"Cooked to perfection."

I grunted as I attempted to get to my feet. "Let's be off, then."

"Ho there, lad. Not so fast." Hadvar pushed down on my shoulder. "Don't think you're going to walk away from that one so easily."

My lack of strength forced me to yield to his judgment. We sat for a few moments in silence, soothed by the gentle ambiance of the cave. Our eyes attuned again to the blue glow of mushrooms that grew on the stone walls. Given my current situation, it was a pleasant way to recuperate after nearly blowing myself up. After my breathing had become somewhat normal, Hadvar broke the silence.

"The air was fresh past the monster's den. We should be out in no time." He grunted as he got to his feet and extended his arm. "Up we go," he said as he heaved me to my feet.

I sighed through my teeth while my body braced itself to keep moving through the cave. I hoped the exit was as close as Hadvar predicted while we made our way through the spider's den and into the next chamber of the keep's underbelly. The ceiling was higher here, with some tall pillars reaching up to hold it. I was a bit surprised to see holes in it, with sunlight streaming in to give the cave a peaceful glow. We crossed the stream again and rounded a large boulder before Hadvar halted.

"Hold up. There's a bear just ahead," Hadvar urgently whispered. "I'd rather not tangle with her right now. We might be able to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow. Watch where you step."

We slowly crept forward, crossing the gap between one boulder to another. My eyes were glued to the slumbering bear across the stream from us. While I was enthralled by the sleeping beast, my foot guided itself snugly into the gravel floor with a loud shuffle that echoed throughout the large chamber. My head snapped to my foot, then to Hadvar, who had stopped dead in his tracks. I couldn't move a muscle, save for my head, which swiveled back to the bear that had begun to stir. The seconds seemed to turn into hours while it shifted this way and that. It slowly climbed to its forepaws before slumping to its other side with a heavy sigh.

I looked back to Hadvar whose face with awash with panic, relief, and an emotion that could only be described as "What the hell are you doing"?

The last few steps of our journey were excruciating, but I had no intention of making the same mistake twice. Luckily, the final leg of the trek was quite short. Once we rounded the corner that separated us from the bear, the cold wind and snow of Skyrim that found their way into the mouth of the cave told Hadvar and me everything we needed and wanted to know.

"This looks like the way out! I was starting to wonder if we'd ever make it," Hadvar said. We squinted at the pure white light that filtered in from the outside as we walked up a gentle incline. My body rejoiced as it inhaled a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air from outside.

"Me too, friend," I said with a sigh of relief. "Me too."

 **A/N**

Like, zoinks, Scoob. I don't think that was a month… I guess I should be glad I added that caveat to my first author's note.

I'm finally starting to get sick of the rut I've been stuck in for the past few months; I'm desperately searching for the elusive skills of time management and manufacturing motivation, so maybe I'll find them… ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

My final note is the closest thing to a dedication I figure this story will get. Thank you to my High Queen for taking the time to read my writing and give me the affirmation I needed to kick my lazy ass into gear. Without you, I doubt I'd have found the gumption to finish writing the last five hundred odd words in this chapter that I've been sitting on for an embarrassingly long amount of time.

Until next time, you magnificent readers!

~ Sage

Legal/Copyright

The Elder Scrolls Universe, The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, and its constituent assets belong entirely to Bethesda Softworks, Bethesda Game Studios, and ZeniMax Media Inc. This work is a transformative use of the content owned by ZeniMax Media and its holdings and is distributed in a non-profit manner.

Garrick Krathgein and any additions made within _Ignis Ille Ex Gelida_ that are not owned by Bethesda Game Studios are the intellectual property of SageAndInsight.


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